


10 Fingers, 10 Foods

by Taylordana821



Category: No Fandom
Genre: ARFID, Autobiography, Avoidant/Restrictive Food Intake Disorder, Eating Disorders
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-05
Updated: 2018-11-30
Packaged: 2019-06-05 19:33:53
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 13
Words: 9,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15177788
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Taylordana821/pseuds/Taylordana821
Summary: A never-ending narrative on my life with ARFID.





	1. An Introduction, I guess

Fun fact: there are more than two eating disorders.

This is something that 99% of the population is unaware of. When someone says 'eating disorder' almost everyone thinks 'anorexia' or 'bulimia'. This is understandable because people learn things from the media.   
The media sees anorexia and bulimia as   
plot devices, ways to add extra drama to a story. And while anorexia and bulimia are used to spice up a story, many other eating disorders aren't even IN them. 

Most of the time, the media completely romanticizes anorexia and bulimia by glorifying the outcomes and the weight loss. So when people see some movie that shows the glorified eating disorder, there's instant outrage. Eating disorders aren't fun. Eating disorders aren't meant to be silly plot lines in movies. 

So, is it wrong for me to wish that my eating disorder could be dramatized in a terrible TV show? For someone in the media to even recognize what I have? So that someone with the same eating disorder as I have might learn that they are not alone? That other people with the same "issues" as them exist? 

I say no, what I want is not wrong. Because a glorified portrayal of ARFID is better than none.   
A glorified portrayal of ARFID is better than someone going their whole life thinking they're alone.   
A glorified portrayal of ARFID is better than a childhood of food being shoved down their throat.  
A glorified portrayal of ARFID is better than countless therapy visits and anorexia clinic recommendations.   
A glorified portrayal of ARFID is better than none.


	2. Wikipedia? I Don’t Know Her.

I'm going to assume that the people clicking on this story either have ARFID themselves, or have no idea what it is. So I'm going to do a quick rundown of ARFID and what it means.

ARFID, otherwise known as 'Avoidant/Restrictive Food Intake Disorder' is an eating disorder where most foods are inedible because they look/smell or taste fucking gross. No, I don't mean 'pineapple on pizza is gross. Ewww.' I mean that most people with arfid don't even eat entire food groups. I mean that most people with arfid will drink only one brand of milk their entire lives because it tastes a little bit different. I mean that people with arfid could look at an entire menu and see nothing they could eat on it. I mean that some people with arfid will eat toast every meal, every day, for months because suddenly they don't like any other food groups.

The definition of arfid is different for each person with arfid. Some say they're the pickiest eater you'll ever meet, others say that 'picky' doesn't even come close to what they are. But this story is going to be MY definition of arfid. it's going to contain all the daily things I go through, and how I process food.

Not every person with arfid eats the same thing. We don't all have a hive mentality. One person could LOVE popcorn, another could like the taste of popcorn but they can't eat it because of the texture, the other could have eaten popcorn their entire life but one day completely hate it. Another person is too scared to try popcorn because if they eat a piece and end up not liking it, they'll definitely throw up. Another person could gag at the THOUGHT of eating popcorn.  
But this story isn't going to be about other people's experience with popcorn, it's going to be about MY experience with popcorn. Well...not just popcorn. But you get what I mean.

You're not going to get my definition of arfid in a Wikipedia article. It's all coming from _me_. This book will contain memories, rants, daily experiences, health problems and so much more. So keep reading and join me on my journey of life with arfid.


	3. Weight Loss is for People Who Can Eat

Around a month ago I downloaded an app called MyFitnessPal. If you don't know what that is, it's basically an app where you can log what you eat, what exercises you're doing and it tells you what more you need to do to lose weight.

I don't know what possessed me to download this app. Maybe it was the curiosity of how many nutrients I am getting with my current diet. Maybe it was every teenage girl’s inner brain telling me I needed to lose weight. Maybe I was just bored. Who knows.

Anyways, over the 23 days I've used this app, It's made me more aware of how unhealthy my diet is. I mean, Of course I've always known that my diet’s unhealthy, but this is making me think about it a whole lot more.

Every time I enter a meal and I get a notification that I'm eating too much sodium or sugar I just have to shrug and move on, because I can't change what I eat. Everyone knows that the key to losing weight is a good diet and exercise. You can't just pick one. No matter how much I exercise, my weight is not going to go down because I eat unhealthy foods for every meal.

I know a lot of people with arfid struggle with their weight, but in the opposite way. I've never met another person with arfid and I only learned about it in the past year (we'll talk about that later) but from what I've heard from the online communities, it's a struggle to _gain_  weight. I guess it _would_ be if the safe foods that you eat, didn't have enough nutrients.

I don't understand _how_  I'm overweight. I don't _eat_  anything. I barely eat enough anyways. How am I surviving when I eat, like, 10 Foods? My entire diet is only junk food, so how am I getting proper nutrients and surviving? How am I getting enough nutrients to live, AND be overweight? My app says I'm getting the same amount as any overweight person. But how can I get enough protein when I don't eat meat? How am I getting any proper vitamins when I only eat chips? My app isn't telling me enough to answer my questions, so it'll forever remain unknown.

I always get jealous of people when they're on their 'weight loss journey' because they have the option to eat healthy. People look at someone who is fat they're always like "lose weight. You can do it, you just don't want to" but I _can’t._  There's nothing _wrong_  with being overweight, but every overweight person has moments where they hate how they look. I just have to learn how to accept myself.

I thought this app would solve all of my problems, but it's just creating more. Before, I didn't care how many cups of milk I had. All I drink is milk and water anyways. So who cares if I want some flavor and have a glass of milk? Me. I care now because every time I log a glass of milk into this stupid app, I get a notification that it's too fattening. So now when I think "hey, I'm thirsty. Milk would taste good right now" I'm reminded about the stupid app and I grab a glass of water and suffer. I don't want water again. I've had water everyday for weeks. I JUST WANT TO DRINK MY MILK AND NOT BE GUILTY ABOUT IT.

I can hear the comments already. "A lot of people only drink water! It's not _that_  bad". It _is_  though. People who only drink water have a _choice_. having a choice makes all the difference. When you can add fruity flavors to your water to change it up, it gives you options. When you go out to eat and decide to have a smoothie, or juice, or lemonade, it makes a difference. When you want something different than water, you can get it. Because smoothies are _healthy_ , and you don't feel guilty for it. A stupid app isn’t going to say that your fruit smoothie is too fattening. But when your only other option besides water is milk, and you feel guilty even drinking _that_ , it sucks.

Sometimes I look at myself in the mirror and I ask my brain why my safe foods all had to be unhealthy things, like chips, instead of something healthy, like vegetables. Life would be simpler if the only foods I ate were healthy. But life doesn't work that way, so I'll continue to eat my Hot Cheetos and french fries and I'll go listen to Lady Gaga's 'Born this Way' because it’s not _my_  fault I’m overweight. It’s just the way I am, and I was born that way.


	4. Chips, Chocolate and Trips to Mcdonald’s

I thought that I should list the foods I eat, so that you guys can get an idea of my daily meals.

-McDonald's French Fries (my one true love)  
-Flaming Hot Cheetos  
-Cheeto Puffs  
-Chocolate (only two brands)  
-Chocolate Ice cream (the brands fluctuate)  
-2% Milk (any kind but one certain brand that is the bane of my existence)  
-Coke (when I have people over, or I'm going out to eat)  
-Thin Rold Gold Pretzels (I'll eat the Snyder's square ones sometimes)  
-Lays Original Potato Chips  
-Popcorn  
-Reese Puff's Cereal  
-Cheese-its  
-Snyder's Barbecue Chips  
-Chocolate Cake (no icing, just cake)

There are probably a few other things that I haven't eaten in a long time that could go on there. Although I have eaten all of these things and I would say that I like them, it doesn't really work that way. I have what my mom calls "kicks" where I will only eat one thing for _months_  because everything else seems gross. At times like those, I only like 2 or 3 things. Other times, I have no problem eating all of my foods.

Right now I'm in a very bad spot, because I can't bring myself to eat anything but ice cream and Hot Cheetos. It's rough, because I'm starting to get tired of having Hot Cheetos for every meal. But when I think about eating a Cheese Puff, or a Barbecue Chip, I almost gag. But they're on my list of foods that I eat, because in another month, I could be on a Cheese Puff kick, and Hot Cheetos could sound disgusting. That's just how it is.

The only exception to my 'kicks' is always McDonald's French Fries. I don't know why. Maybe it's because I can't eat them everyday. It could be the fact that it's the only food that I eat that comes from a restaurant. Or it could be the fact it's the only food I eat that comes Hot. Everything else I eat is room temperature because they're all pre-made/prepackaged.

My family still doesn't understand why I have these kicks. They don't understand what I mean when I say "I have nothing to eat. There's nothing to eat but Hot Cheetos" when there's a cabinet full of food. I don't know how to explain it to them so that they could understand. I tell them that, 'no, I don't want chips right now, I want something to eat.' But they look and see a cabinet with at _least_  ten things in it, so they don't understand why 'I don't have any other options to eat'. What I have confuses them even though they've studied it my whole life. They still don't understand me, or who I am, even though I've lived with them for as long as I've lived. Sad.

Can you imagine only eating a few things your entire life? Being able to list all of the foods you have eaten, specific to brand? Most would say no. People with arfid would say yes. I would say yes. I was able to list 10 things in my college essay (we'll talk about that later) and it made me think about how sucky that is.

Sometimes I wish that I had more options. That I could go out and not worry about what I was going to eat. But then I think about eating a food that isn't something I've eaten before, and I'm suddenly happy with what I have now.


	5. Dating? Nah

"Dana, how do you go on dates if you only eat McDonald's? No one will want to go out to McDonald's for every date."

Before I realized that I was a raging Aromantic Asexual, I would ask myself this all the time. _Other people_  would ask me this all the time. As if a teacher had any _right_  to imply that no one would love me because of my food issue (we'll talk about her later).

The idea of dating was scary to me when I was growing up. Not only because I didn't realize that I was an aromantic asexual and that it was perfectly okay to not like people that way. But because I thought I _had_  to date people. I thought that I would have to grow up and get a boyfriend and go on dates.

How could someone love a girl who doesn't eat? No one would be able to handle my food issues on a long time basis. Who wants to eat their full meal, while watching me eat a bag of chips? My _family_  can barely handle it, let alone someone who has a _choice_ of being with me.

I used to think that was true, until I realized I had friends who did the same thing every day. I have friends who go to McDonald's every time they want to go out with me. I have friends who make sure I have something to eat when I go somewhere with them. I have friends who don't even do a double take when I pull out some chips during lunch or dinner. I have friends who's _parents_ will go to McDonald's and get me some fries so that I'm not left out at their dinner.

My friends have a choice of dealing with my food, and they do it anyways. They do it because we're _friends_  and they _like_  being my friend. Who needs a boyfriend when I have best friend's who buy me McDonald's?


	6. College Essays Suck Because Teachers Suck Sometimes

10 Fingers, 10 Foods. This title comes from the college essay that I wrote this past year in my language arts class.

My teacher, who had been my favorite up until this point, gave us the assignment of writing a college essay completely unique to us. I remember that she kept stressing the fact that it _has_  to be unique. What's more unique than ARFID.

I was very excited about this essay. I love writing essays and until then, I hadn't ever written about my eating disorder.

So, with a creative idea, and an excited attitude, I showed up to language arts the next day, ready to start. Sadly, we weren't starting that day. What my teacher did instead, was partner us up to do book work. While we were working, she would go around and personally talk to each person about their essay. She knew that we were going to write about personal things, so she didn't want it shared with the whole class. Until... she got to me. And apparently she didn't care anymore. You can't see me rolling my eyes, but that's what's happening right now.

She eventually got to me, and I paused. The worst part of explaining what Arfid is, is trying to explain what it is. This is something I've always hated doing because no one ever understands and I just end up hating myself afterwards because they treat me different. Suddenly every conversation I have with that person turns into "why don't you eat _this_? What about _this_?" And nothing is ever the same again.

 

But I mustered up some courage and _quietly_  talked to her about it. I tried explaining the best I could, and she was listening intently. I remember saying something like "so all of the foods that you eat, I don't. Like, pizza. I've never had pizza before" and all hell broke lose. The kid, who I had been partnered with, yells "YOU'VE NEVER HAD PIZZA BEFORE?!" And the entire class went  _crazy._

Two girls who were in the class, that I trusted, that I had previously told about my eating disorder _months_ before, immediately turn to their partners, and the people around them, and start explaining how "yeah! Dana doesn't eat ANYTHING. She only eats Cheetos! And chocolate!"

My mind shut off, and I stayed completely silent as everyone around me talked about my eating disorder, as if it was a weird quirk, something that made me even _more_ weird than I already was. All of these people are no longer going to see me the same way. Every single connection I could've had with them, changed. All of them look at me and no longer see "Dana" they see "she doesn't eat normal". From then on, every conversation I'd have with them would contain the word "food" in it. I _hated_ it.

My teacher eventually got them all to quiet down, and asked me to continue explaining what I wanted to put in my essay. But everyone was listening. This was no longer a private conversation that I could explain my personal feelings. I was no longer treated like the others and it had only been five minutes since they learned about it.

So I turned forward in my seat, and I re explained everything that I previously had. I tried to explain that it's something I've had my whole life, that it's not something I can change. That I can't just eat pizza if I wanted to.

Suddenly everyone was talking again. If anything will make teenagers go crazy, it's the fact that someone doesn't like pizza. They're all shouting questions, a boy is looking up my eating disorder on Wikipedia, as if Wikipedia could explain my eating disorder better than I could.

I went on answering questions about something that I didn't want them to know about. I went on sharing my experiences that only I wanted to know. I explained that I don't know why I am this way, but I am. I explained for another _twenty minutes_  until class ended. My teacher quickly said that she wanted us to write our introductions for our essay that night, so she could read them the next day.

I left class defeated. I went to my friend's locker, waiting so we could go to lunch, where I knew I wasn't going to eat. I never do. I waited, knowing that anyone from that class who had lunch with me, would be _watching_. Watching across the tables, like I was an animal in a zoo, like they could tap on the glass to urge me to _do_ something. To _eat_ something. I went to lunch, defeated. Then after lunch, I went to math, defeated.

I went everywhere that day defeated. I had lost my own game. I had lost my game of acting like no one cared about my food issues if I just didn't talk about them. Because I _had_ talked about them to my whole class, For twenty minutes. It mattered now. It mattered to everyone in that class who were talking to their friends about this weird girl who only eats chips everyday. As if my life was funny and that it was okay to tell other people about my _eating disorder._

It's MY eating disorder. I should get to decide when someone learns about it. The information should come from the source, me, IM the source and no one was quoting me directly, they were all plagiarizing off of other stories they had heard, from other people in the class. They were telling _wrong_ information that made me seem somehow even worse.

I went home, once again defeated, and cried in my mother's arms. I cried to her about everything that happened that day. She cried with me, because every time my eating disorder is brought up, she cries. She only hurts when she can't ignore it anymore.

I went to bed that night defeated.

The next day I woke up dreading language arts. How had everything changed so quickly? The day before I was practically bouncing with excitement, ready to write an essay personal to me. But now I didn't want to. I never wanted to speak about it again. I didn't want to go to class and talk about how weird it is that I don't eat bacon, or how I eat cake without icing, or how I only eat the rainbow goldfish because they're somehow _different_ in my head and thats _weird_. They're the same as the regular ones, what is _wrong_ with you. I ask myself that every time my mom buys rainbow goldfish. Why couldn't I just be normal?

The bell rings, class starts, but the class doesn't go silent. They're still talking about me as if I'm not there. As if it's okay to gossip about someone's eating disorder when they're right there. As if it's okay to gossip at all.

My teacher gets them to silence. I start class defeated. Losing, already five minutes in.

It's time to share our introductions with the teacher. She went around to talk about it personally, But I knew it wasn't personal anymore. Everyone would stop, and listen, when it was my turn. So I sat there, waiting for the moment it would become apart of a class discussion once more.

It was my turn. But it was different than the others. Instead of sitting down and quietly discussing my introduction like she had with the others, my teacher asks me to share mine with the class. My personal essay was a public essay now. And it was my time to shine. I did what I was told, and I read my introduction to the class. Why didn't I just say no? Why hadn't I told her 'no, I'd rather NOT share my essay with the class, thank you.'

I read my essay introduction, defeated. It caused another uproar. Everyone was talking about my issue once more. Asking questions like "why didn't your parents just _make_ you eat" not knowing that the answer to that question was "they tried"

I'd like to say that we moved on, but we didn't. They talked about me for the rest of class.

Apparently they talked about me during class again, but not language arts, a different one. The original kid who had revealed me to the whole class, had done it again. A whole other class was discussing my eating disorder, and I _wasn't even there._ A government class, with a teacher I had never even met, talked about me, during class, and I _wasn't even there._ The only reason I knew about this was because my friend, who I rode the bus with, had told me that she "didn't even know" that I was like that. Like my entire being should be defined by my eating disorder. I asked where she found out, and she told me her government class. Since when did government classes teach about eating disorders? Maybe it was a new curriculum. Teachers now had to gossip about other student's eating disorders. A teacher got paid to talk about me that day.

I went home, and once again cried. I cried to my parents about my day at school. They were outraged. My mom said she was going to call the school and demand to speak to my language arts teacher. To tell her that it was disgusting to let the whole class talk about her daughters eating disorder as if they were discussing the season finale of a tv show they all had watched. My eating disorder wasn't entertainment.

I told her no. I just wanted it all to end. If she had called my teacher, then my teacher would've brought it up again in class to tell people to stop talking about it. I just wanted everyone to forget that this happened and if she brought it up, it wouldn't stop. So I made my mom put the phone down, and I went upstairs to bed.

For a while, everything was fine. We worked on our essays in class, so no one was talking anyways. But one day I walked into class and my teacher stopped me.

She went, "Dana! I was thinking about you last night! We were having chips and dip for dinner, and I wondered 'does Dana eat Fritos?' So I just wanted to ask! Do you eat Fritos?"

The conversations with my teacher had become food related. Just like I had feared. If she hadn't learned about my eating disorder, would she have asked if I like Fritos? Would she have spent her dinner thinking about the girl who doesn't eat?

I said no, and sat down in my seat.

That day was a 'check in day'. A day where my teacher could read over what everyone had so far, and make sure they were all caught up. I was somewhat excited. I had gotten my entire essay done, when the rest of the class only had a couple paragraphs finished. I worked ahead and I wanted my teacher to recognize my work ethic and tell me it was a good essay.

I went up and sat with her at her desk. She pulled up my essay on her computer, stared at it for not even ten seconds, and turned towards me.

"So, I was thinking..." she says

"Oh, here we go," I thought, ready to listen to some question or comment about my food issue.

"So I really hate turkey meatballs. Like, when I think about them, I gag a little. I think I might have a little bit of what you have," she literally says. No exaggeration here. 100% true comment.

I didn't even know what to say. This comment was like saying "I close my eyes to blink, so I think I might be blind," or "I tripped the other day, I think my legs are amputated because I couldn't walk,"

She didn't like turkey meatballs, so she _obviously_ has ARFID.

I awkwardly laughed and she turned back to my essay. She scrolled a bit, just glancing and the words I had spent so many extra hours writing. She turns towards me again.

"Is there a cure?" She asks

"I wrote about that in my essay actually. You should read it. It's on the other page," I say, not wanting to explain myself when I had it written out in understandable words that she could read.

She doesn't read it.

"I was wondering. How are you going to get a boyfriend? Or have kids? Your boyfriend won't want to go to McDonald's for every meal. And If you don't eat, what will you feed your kids?" She asks, completely serious.

I was blown away that my teacher thought that this was any of her business. Everything I had discussed in a previous chapter, actually happened. Of course I've had other people, like my mom, ask me the same questions. But my teacher? No. This couldn't be real. I had no idea what to say.

"Uh.... well... im not really interested in dating or having kids right now. So... I don't know...?" I stumbled over my words, not knowing how to defend myself.

Why did I have to defend the fact that a boy would like me? Even if I wasn't interested in that kind of thing. What was she expecting me to say? To go "yes you're completely right. I'll change immediately. What boy will want me if I don't eat? I'll go eat some real food right now, so my future children won't look at their mom and be disgusted at what she's eating. Why hadn't I thought that before?

As if some offhand comment about the future children and boyfriend I did not want, would make me be normal.

I went home, defeated, cried once more, and just accepted that there will be people like that in my life. I had never cried this much in my life, but I needed to learn that there will be people who will never understand what I have. No matter how many times I explain it, there will be people who still make offensive comments because they just don't get it. This is just something that I need to accept, so that I can move on with what really matters. I'm not sure what that is yet, but I'll get there.


	7. Noodles are the Bane of my Existence and Must be Eradicated

I _hate_ spaghetti.  
I refuse to eat spaghetti.

I look at spaghetti and I can't help but gag. I literally CANNOT stand the thought of eating spaghetti.

When I was younger, around the time I was in elementary school, my parents got fed up with my eating issues. They probably thought I would've "grown out" of it by then, and they were tired of it. So, my mom told me that every day, I would try a piece of what they were having for dinner. I cried, of course. I didn't want to be forced to eat things that I couldn't eat. I remember sobbing because of it for hours.

The first day was spaghetti. I hadn't had spaghetti, or any kind of noodle, before that point. My mom gave me a plate, put a noodle on it, and told me to eat it.

I refused.

I sobbed, I screamed, I tried leaving the kitchen, but none of it worked. My dad was yelling at me, because who throws that big of a tantrum because of a single noodle?

I knew at that point I wouldn't get to leave unless I tried the noodle. So I ripped a tiny piece, maybe the length of a fingernail, off of it. I shoved it in my mouth, bit down once, and immediately started gagging. I ran to the bathroom and threw up into the toilet.

At that point I was crying even harder. My dad was screaming at me for over reacting, as if I threw up on purpose just to piss him off.

I cleaned myself off and was ready to go up to my room and cry myself to sleep. But it wasn't over. My mom told me to sit back town and eat the rest of the noodle that was on my plate. As if my reaction to that tiny piece wasn't enough to prove that I wasn't going to like it.

The noodle was slimy, it wasn't like anything I had ever had before. I didn't like it, and I never wanted to try it again.

I sat there for a long time. Too long. Just crying in front of a plate, with a single noodle on it. My parents were already done with dinner. They watched tv, unconcerned to the fact that their daughter was having a mental breakdown. I don't know how long I sat there for. My mom came over and told me that if I didn't eat the noodle, she would put sauce on it and shove it down my throat.

I didn't want sauce on the noodle. I didn't even want the _plain_ noodle. I picked up the noodle, brought it to my mouth, and immediately started gagging again. I ran to the bathroom and started throwing up once more. I hadn't even gotten the noodle IN my mouth. Just _thinking_ about it made me THROW UP. My parents got mad again, but this time they just grounded me and sent me to my room.

The next day my mom told me that when I got home from school, I was going to try again.

I didn't even know what they were having for dinner that day, but I wasn't going to do that again. Instead of coming home from school, I went over my friends house, who lived down the street, and stayed there until it was dark. I came home and ran to my room, hoping I wouldn't have to eat what ever they were having. They didn't bother trying to drag me out of my room, so I went to bed.

The next day my mom told me they were having tacos that night and I was going to eat them no matter what.

Instead of coming home after school, I tried going over my friends house. She wasn't home.

I walked around the neighborhood the entire day. I walked up and down the same two streets for an entire day.

I didn't want to eat noodles and I didn't want to eat tacos.

I _couldn't_ eat noodles and I _couldn't_ eat tacos.

I vividly remember, little elementary school me, hiding in the bushes in front of my house, just staring into the windows. I watched my mom make dinner, and waited. I waited until she finished. I waited until she cleaned it up. I waited until the kitchen lights turned off.

I sat there for a long time. Too long. Just crying in front of the house, with my parents in it. They sat in front of the Tv, unconcerned to where their daughter was. I don't know how long I sat there for. It was dark out. The sun was gone, the moon in the sky, stars in the sky, and I was sat in the bushes, hiding from my own parents.

I didn't want to eat noodles and I didn't want to eat tacos, I _couldn't_ eat noodles and I _couldn't_ eat tacos. But what I _could_ do, was hide in the bushes until I didn't have to eat noodles, or tacos, or what ever _they_ were having for dinner. It was _their_ dinner, not mine, because I _hate_ spaghetti, and I refuse to eat spaghetti.


	8. Popcorn Feels Weird

When you go to the Movie Theater, you get popcorn. When you think about movie theaters you think of popcorn. It's just how it is. Movie theater = overpriced popcorn.

 

For as long as I can remember, I've wanted to like popcorn. It was one of the only foods that I'd look at and think "dang, I wish I could eat that". I _longed_ to be one of those people who could go to the movies and get some popcorn. I loved how popcorn tasted, I liked the salty, buttery flavor that movie theater popcorn had.

 

You may be thinking "well Dana, if you liked the flavor, then what do you mean by "you don't like popcorn"?. Well, dear reader, popcorn feels weird.

 

The texture? Gross. The way that some pieces are hard and crunchy and others are soft? Horrible. How sometimes you'll eat a piece and just get 80 percent kernel? I cant stand it.

 

But popcorn smells amazing, and tastes even better.

 

I used to go to the movies and my aunt would get me some popcorn so I could put a piece in my mouth, taste it, and spit it out into another container. Yeah, that's kinda gross, but It was worth it. The flavor is my favorite taste in the WORLD, but the texture completely ruins it for me.

 

I've been trying to build up a tolerance against the texture. I eat it even though some pieces will make me gag.

 

I've started to enjoy eating popcorn. I only like the soft pieces, where there's no hard kernels hidden. Sometimes, I'll get a good batch where they're all soft and nice, and sometimes I'll get a batch where it's all hard and I'll have to throw it away. Sometimes, I'll make a whole bag and eat maybe 20 pieces before I can't take it anymore. I'm happy with my progress though, I've come a long way.

 

Maybe one day I'll be able to shove handfuls of popcorn in my mouth at the movies like other people, but today I'll just work my way to it, one piece at a time.


	9. Graduation Dinner at McDonald’s

I'm on my way to go out to eat with my family. By 'go out to eat' I mean 'go sit in a restaurant and watch my family eat'.

 

We are going to Longhorns, which is my dad's favorite restaurant. I dread when it comes time to order. The waitress always goes, "and for you?" And I go, "nothing for me, thanks". The reactions are always different. Sometimes I get an "are you sure?" Or a "why's that?" And I'll have to explain that I don't like any of the food there. Sometimes they don't push, sometimes they insist that there must be _something_ that I can eat.

 

I used to go to McDonald's and get fries to bring with me to the restaurant, so that I can eat with my family, instead of watching them. It was always awkward. Every time someone would walk by, I would hide the bag, scared that someone would say something.

 

I was right to hide my bag. The one time that I didn't, I was told to get rid of it.

 

We decided to go to a new place by my house called 'Quaker Steak & Lube'. I, of course, had my french Fries with me. When it was time to order, our waitress stopped at our table and told me that they didn't allow outside food. My mom tried explaining that I had a food issue and I wasn't going to eat any of the food they provided. She said that there were no exceptions and I had to get rid of it. My dad took me outside to finish my meal, but I told him I wasn't hungry, even though I was, and just threw it all away. I sat inside and watched my family enjoy their meal.

 

We never went back again. My mom said that it wasn't fair for me not to eat when they were. I felt bad. They enjoyed the food there, and I was ruining it for them.

 

Now, I just don't eat. I tell them I'm not hungry, and I sit and watch them eat. I tell the waitress "nothing for me, thanks. I'm not hungry." My parents joke that they're starving me, but I can tell the waitress thinks I'm doing it myself. Of course that's what everyone thinks when the fat girl doesn't eat. Sometimes my mom will ask for extra saltine crackers for her soup, but she gives them to me. I'm always embarrassed and scared that someone will say something. That someone will see me chowing down on some saltine crackers and ask me if I'm hungry, if I'd like to order something.

 

Why am I so scared to go out to eat? Eating out with your family should be fun! People talk about how excited they are to go out to eat with their family, how nice it is to go out for once! It's not though.

 

We used to go to this one restaurant all the time. They had chocolate ice cream with small chocolate chips in it. I really liked it, and we went back multiple times solely because there was something I could eat there. Until one day, the chocolate chips came on _top_ of the ice cream. It used to be _in_ the ice cream, not on top. I didn't want to eat it anymore. That small of a change, completely ruins it. That's how specific my ED is. We haven't gone back since.

 

Recently, my parents have started getting me fries after we go out to eat, since I claim I'm not hungry before. I think they've started to notice that I'm actually hungry. Sometimes they forget. They forget that I don't eat, they forget that I haven't eaten. They just ate as a family, so why would they remember to stop at McDonald's on the way home? I don't blame them.

 

We decided to go to Longhorns for my brother's graduation dinner. He got to chose the place he wanted to eat at, and around 10 people in our family came with us. My mom jokingly said that my graduation dinner could be at McDonald's. I know she was joking though. Later this year it'll be time for my graduation dinner, and it'll be spent at a place I don't eat at. MY graduation dinner, won't be MY graduation dinner. It'll be my family's graduation dinner. It's my fault though. It's my fault I don't eat, so I don't blame them.

 

Anyways, we've just arrived at Longhorns, so I can't write anymore. Time to tell the waitress I'm not hungry, even though I am. But that's my fault, so I don't blame her.


	10. Its. Not. Funny.

"Why is half of my chocolate bar gone?" I ask, frustrated.

 

"Your Dad did it as a joke. He wanted to see if you'd throw it away," my mother replies, not looking away from the TV.

 

 

"Why is my bag of chips open?" I ask, upset.

 

"I didn't eat any, I just opened it as a joke to see if you'd get mad. You better not throw it out." My father replies, getting mad at me for feeling upset.

 

A joke? My eating disorder is a joke now? Dana has so many problems and she won't eat food if someone touches it without her knowing. Haha, so funny.

 

"It's just us here. No one outside of the family will touch your food, it's safe."

 

Safe? Family touching my food is safe? I wonder where this problem of mine started. Maybe it was at that one thanksgiving when I was a child. Maybe it was when I overheard my _family_ talking about how they stuffed my Cheeto puffs with small pieces of meat, and cheese, hoping I wouldn't notice and eat one. Maybe it was when everyone sat down to eat their turkey and their ham and I sat down to eat my only food, my Cheeto puffs, and I couldn't. I couldn't eat them because my _family_ tampered with my food.

 

I don't have these issues with my friends. I don't care at all if my friends eat my food, or touch my chocolate, or steal some of my fries. I trust my friends to be respectful of my boundaries. My friends take me seriously. They don't act like my eating disorder is a joke.

 

None of my food is safe from my family. Not even my safe foods are safe anymore.

 

Don't get mad at me when I won't eat that bag of chips because someone moved it. Don't get mad at me when I throw out a full box of cereal because someone mixed a few Cheerios in with it. Don't get mad it me when I refuse to touch that bag of Cheetos because you mixed it in with another bag of older Cheetos that happened to be in the cabinet.

 

Don't get mad at me. It's not my fault I'm this way. It's not my fault that I don't trust the people I live with. I only eat a couple things. Let me have my couple things, and you can have everything else.

 

I have half a shelf of food in the cabinet out of nine. _Half_ a shelf. God forbid I not want to share my last bar of chocolate, or my last bag of chips, or a handful of my fries. I only get so much. When you guys run out of one thing, you have a hundred other things to eat. When I run out of one thing, I don't have anything else.

 

When I start having those weeks where I will only eat one food over and over again, I run out very quickly. When I run out of that food, I won't eat anything else because I can't stomach the thought of eating anything but that item.

 

When you eat " _only half_ " of my chocolate bar, your taking all of it from me.

 

When you open that bag of chips, only to laugh because I gag when I think about eating out of it, you're taking away my dinner for the next few nights.

 

When you treat my eating disorder as a joke, you're taking away my self respect and dignity.

 

Don't get mad at me because i'm not laughing at your 'joke'. It's not funny.


	11. Soggy Cereal for the Win

I feel as if this narrative has gotten a little dark and "rant-y" for the past few chapters so I'd like to lighten it up a bit.

 

This is a little accomplishment I've made with food, and I thought it would be nice to share.

 

My earliest memories of my life consist of me sitting in my room in a chair, with a box of Reese Puffs, watching a knock off PBS channel. Someone had introduced me to Reese Puffs and I had taken a liking to them because it had my favorite (and only, because I don't like mixing foods) flavor combination, peanut butter and chocolate.

 

The only issue my parents had with this, was that I refused to eat it with milk. Like I said earlier, I _despise_ mixing flavors. Eating cereal out of a bowl, with a spoon was extremely strange to me. So, until the age of 13, I ate handfuls of dry cereal out of the box.

 

Until one day when I was on my own and I pulled out my box of cereal and paused. No one was home and there was no pressure to _like_ it. I could just try it, and if I didn't like the combination, then I could dump it down the sink.

 

So I put the box on the counter and got out a bowl and a fork. Yes, you read that right. I ate everything else that required a utensil with a fork, I wasn't about to cave in and use a spoon for _anything_. I poured my cereal and added a _tiny_ bit of milk in.

 

I sat down, and just stared at the bowl for a solid five minutes, trying to build up the courage to take a bite. The cereal was getting soggy and I couldn't go back now, after how far I've come.

 

I picked up my fork, scooped some soggy Reese Puffs up, and took my first bite of proper cereal, just the way 'normal' people ate it (minus the use of a fork, but I was content either way).

 

To my surprise, I liked it. I continued eating, actually enjoying the soggy texture of the Puffs.

 

Eventually I got to the bottom of the bowl, the only thing left was the milk. I was confident that I would like the taste and, wow, was I wrong. Don't ask me why, but the milk left over from the cereal was NOT enjoyable. Maybe it was the fact that I'm not overly fond of peanut butter flavored milk, but who knows.

 

All I knew at that point was that I liked soggy cereal, but not the milk that was left over. I decided to just dump the milk into the sink, evidentially wasting it.

 

I waited for my parents to get home so I could tell them the good news. When they walked into the door I jumped up to them and explain what I had done. I had eaten cereal the 'normal' way! The way that they had tried so hard for me to do!!

 

The only answer I got in return was "You wasted a whole bowl of milk?!"

 

I was a little dejected from the response, but I had accomplished what I had came to do, and I wasn't about to let anyone bring me down.

 

The lesson I want to convey with this chapter is that no matter "little" your accomplishments are, you should learn to appreciate them. Even if others saw something as simple as mixing cereal and milk as not a big deal, _it_ _was_ _to_ _me_ , and that's all that matters.


	12. Thanksgiving? The Worst Holiday.

Everyone who has ARFID knows that thanksgiving is the worst holiday to ever have been created.

 

Whether it be annoying (and probably racist) family members bothering you about what food you eat, or the fact that you don’t get to enjoy food as much as those around you.

 

Unless one of your safe foods is turkey, then you’re bound to not enjoy thanksgiving. Every year I go to my Nana’s, then I go to my Mamaw’s and I watch everyone eat food. I go the whole day not eating and then I hope that a McDonald’s is open on the way home. (Unlikely).

 

As I yearn to get some sort of food substance, I pray to any higher being that one of the four McDonald’s we pass will be open. Today, my prayers were answered and ONE of them was open and selling food. When I see those glowing, golden arches my stomach growls and my mouth waters over the idea of eating my first meal of the day at 7pm.

 

I burst with excitement, “ITS OPEN! MCDONALDS IS OPEN!” I point frantically towards the brick building, “FINALLY!”

 

“I’m not pulling over,” my brother says, speeding past my only salvation on this retched evening.

 

“What?! Come ON!!! I’m so hungry! PLEASE!” I beg, almost brought to tears, “You all got to eat! Pleeeaaassee!!!!” I turn to my mom, hoping she tells him to go back and get me food. She shakes her head and looks back at her phone. My stomach growls in despair and I turn back to get one last look at my chance of a thanksgiving miracle. 

 

Getting McDonald’s on thanksgiving would make most of the American population roll their eyes. While everyone spends their Thanksgiving filling their stomachs full of turkey and stuffing, I get to sit in front of an empty plate and go without eating. I _could_ bring some chips, but I spend my thanksgiving with distant family members who I only see once a year and it’s _embarrassing_.

 

As I sit in my bed at home, hungry, I think about all of the food I have in my pantry downstairs and I shudder with disgust. There isn’t a single food right now that I could stomach and all I can think about is how I was so close to getting a warm meal on thanksgiving, and I had it taken away from me.

 

This sounds all very dramatic, but after a whole day of watching everyone chow down, I’m not in the mood to eat a handful of goldfish. I wanted something warm, I wanted a meal. I wanted to consume something that hadn’t come out of a chip bag for once.

Anyways, I just wanted you all to know that my overall mood for today is “≖__≖”


	13. The Useless College Essay

I’ve mentioned my ARFID essay in earlier chapters, and thought I should share it with you. Basically, I finished the whole thing within 3 class periods and I never used it to apply to a college, so I guess it was useless in the long run lol. 

Here ya go:

10 fingers, 10 foods

Some people say that choosing what to have for dinner is a difficult decision, but when you can count on your fingers how many foods you’ve tried, the decision isn’t too difficult. As a child, my parents were concerned about me because I refused to eat certain foods, so they’d take me to any doctor that would listen. They had many tests done, but no one they went to could figure out why I wouldn’t eat. I wouldn’t try any meat, vegetables, or fruit. In fact, there were only a couple foods I would willingly eat. My diet then, and now, consists of certain brands of chips, one kind of cereal, Mcdonalds (and only Mcdonalds) french fries, and various chocolate flavored desserts. Although they wouldn’t learn this until I turned 16, I had an eating disorder called ARFID. 

ARFID, otherwise known as Avoidant / Restrictive Food Intake Disorder, is defined as an eating disorder “where the consumption of certain foods is limited based on the food’s appearance, smell, taste, texture, brand, presentation, or past negative experience with the food.” When I first saw this definition, I was stunned. I had gone my whole life thinking I was completely alone and a Wikipedia article literally turned my world upside down. I fell into a hole of research and found a whole community of people just like me. Getting a proper diagnosis for ARFID is extremely difficult as only 37% of doctors and pediatric specialists are familiar with it. So, it’s not too surprising that I had lived that long not knowing that ARFID was an actual disorder. 

When I first told my parents about my discoveries, the first thing they had asked was “Is there a cure?” Most people would assume that I hate living this way, not knowing what most foods taste like, but I don’t. In fact, I’d say other people have a bigger problem with my eating disorder than I do. When my parents asked if there was a cure, I dreaded finding the answer. After researching, I found out that the cure to ARFID is what I’ve been doing all along, moving at my own pace. Of course, there are certain specialists that focus on helping people get over this disorder, but the biggest cure is helping yourself. Most people with ARFID go their whole lives staying the way they are, and that’s perfectly ok. If the day comes where I desire to change the way I eat, I know my family will be there to help.

One thing I've learned about having an eating disorder is that you have to come prepared. An example of this was my choir trip to New York. I remember panicking over what I´d be able to eat while I was there. I had to fill my suitcase with snacks that I could eat, and I could only do so when we stopped at the hotel. When the entire choir group met at a restaurant, I just had to decline everything the waitresses offered me. Having to speak for myself and explain why I´m the way I am, has taught me to be independent and self-reliant.

Even with such a simple diet, life can still be complex. ARFID has taught me that there are no quick fixes to things in life, just a lot of careful planning. Getting to your goal fast isn’t what’s important, learning and growing as a person along the way is what really matters. Of course, there are going to be hardships along the way. There are going to be things you don’t want to go through to get to your goal, but growing up with an eating disorder taught me that if I can sit through Thanksgiving every year, I can do anything.


End file.
